Four Minutes
by Argyle Sock
Summary: Teaching rehabilitative piano for penitentiaries Jihl Nabaat discovers a prodigy. An invaluable musicial talent known as Lightning Farron; a murderer. Alternative Universe with eventual FLight. Rated M for criminals being criminals.
1. Chapter 1

Well! Here is my voyage into writing multichapters. This will be a learning experience, as I have a horridly bipolar muse and tend to not complete (or ever bother publishing) stories I start! I am determined to finish this one, however, determined! :p

I got the inspiration to write this when I watched a german movie called Four Minutes last Friday (Do I get ten points for title originality? XD). Within minutes I began replacing characters with FF13 ones. My muse wasn't pleased with just this, so I began writing. This story is going to be roughly based off from the movie but spiced up with more interesting things. I recommend watching the movie just cause it is an awesome movie, but it won't be necessary to understand the story. At least I hope so.

This chapter was fuelled by nutella slathered crumpets, Two Steps From Hell, Infected Mushrooms and the glorious FF13 soundtrack. Also, I lost my Word program and its handy "editor" function, so if you spot any horrible glaring mistakes in spelling, grammar or syntax feel free to inform me! Helpful criticism is mucho welcome too.

Ahh, I should stop blathering now.

* * *

><p>The hallway was the same as it always was. Moldy green carpet heavily stained and pulling up at the edges. The wallpaper having long since lost its original pattern to years of neglience now had a dizzying array of water stains and vandalism. The bleak hallway was empty except for one door. She knew what this door looked like before even taking a glance. Made of thin, cheap plywood it was carelessly painted a bland beige and a chipped and battered plaque was nailed completely off centre with the faded numbers: "307". She stood in front of that door. She did not want to go in. Heavy, knowing dread coiled and twisted in her stomach. She knew what she would see if she turned that rusty, brass doorknob. A light flickered in its death throes before going out. She remained there, staring at all of the familiar flaws of the door, resisting.<p>

Then a soft whimper of pain came from the other side. She knew that voice anywhere. It was written into her soul. She flung open the door crying out the same name she cried out before and before. Her heart ached at the sound of it, then plummeted. The same scene. The same damnable scene. None of the other details mattered to her. Only her eyes. Crystal blue. Staring right back.

Empty.

* * *

><p>Lightning jerked up, gasping for breath and chilled from the layer of sweat coating her body. She sat for a moment, trembling from the surge of adrenaline, forcing the reoccuring nightmare from her mind. From the corner of her eye she saw something shift, turning around she let out a silent gasp, startled. Relief flooded her when she saw it was her cell mate, but something was amiss. Glancing up Lightning could see the reason, a braid of wires cutting into the pale flesh of the woman's neck.<p>

Lightning remained there on her bed, watching the body slowly sway. There was something amusing, comical even, the way the limbs slumped together. When her eyes fell on the woman's pants, Lightning remembered the cigs that her cellmate always kept on her. Reaching out she slipped her fingers into the right pocket, her brain dully noting that the body was still warm before pulling out the lone cigarette pinched between her pointer and middle finger.

Lighting the stolen cig with a splintery match, Lightning shifted back causing the bunk bed to loudly protest. Feeling her heart calm with the hit of nicotine, she slowly released the lungful of smoke. Her gaze fell back on Nora and she thought back to the two weeks she spent with the woman. Lightning spoke not a word to Nora, but that didn't stop the damnable woman. All she gathered from Nora's ceaseless rambling was her kid with a stupid name like Faith or Chasity. Lightning didn't really give a damn. The woman drove her crazy with her pacing and tapping. She even would jerk her foot in her sleep, shaking the unsteady metal bunk bed they shared.

As for Nora's reason why she was in this hell, Lightning didn't care. She was more tolerable than her old cellmate who sobbed constantly. That lady had problems, but not as much as Nora, apparently. Stubbing out the butt against the bed frame, she flicked it over to the general area of the trash bin. Letting out a sigh, she gave the dangling body of Nora one last glance before leaping off from the top bunk and going to the buzzer connected to the guard room.

* * *

><p>Sazh Katzroy, otherwise known as Mr. Sazh, looked up from his paperwork at the familiar distorted buzz. The red blinking light on the panel indicated cell block C-27. Strange. Despite the short temper of one of the inmates, C-27 was usually the more quieter cells. Without setting his pen down, he pressed the button to notify the other guards on shift to inspect what the problem was. He shook his head and returned to his paperwork, it was so close to being the first uneventful night in a while.<p>

* * *

><p>Jihl Nabaat sat down in the armchair placed at the front of the desk, readjusting her glasses. The office had a simple charm to it, Jihl will give it that. It was hardly within her tastes but she could see how people would like it. The well kept mismatched furniture was laid out in a tasteful manner and the room was softly illuminated by two large windows draped with sheer curtains. She spared a glance to the empty fish tank before the entrance of Warden Cid Raines drew her attention.<p>

Cid Raines was definitely the type of man that countless women swoon for. Warm black hair cut and styled tastefully with cool grey eyes that Jihl didn't doubt was capable of melting any floozy woman's heart with a mere glance. He also was pleasantly fit, his professionally tailored suit cut to accent that fact. Jihl hardly paid any mind to that fact however, as far as she was concerned Cid Raines was as appealing as a slug.

Smiling amicably, Warden Cid Raines set the plate he was holding onto his desk before taking a seat. Jihl looked at the plate to see three fish laying side by side.

They sat in silence, looking at the fish before Jihl spoke, her voice sharp and clipped, "I'm sorry."

"What ever for?" Cid's smile grew as he watched the blonde readjust her glasses again.

"Your fish. Their deaths." She shifted her foot, "It's quite a way to go."

_She kept a close eye on the warden and two guards pushing the black piano, irritated at how it bounced and skipped violently across the cobblestone road. _

_'Two hours of tuning.' She thought to herself bitterly. Loud catcalls and jeers rang down from the windows. This prison certainly was going to be no different from the others in the past, the slight sneer grew on her face. _

_'Animals. All of them.' Jihl growled to herself. Finally the warden shouted for the prisoners to shut up. To her surprise they actually listened. _

_'Maybe this place isn't going to be all that terrible.' The slight relief lasted only a few feet when suddenly a torrent of water splashed down all over the piano. She stopped short, stunned as she watched a fish weakly flop off the side._

"Oh yes, a ten metre fall would kill any perch." Cid nodded his head, clasping his hands together. Jihl narrowed her eyes. Cid was one of those good natured people, insufferably so. Jihl rarely found herself getting along with the type, she couldn't understand how any sane person could be so damn chipper all the time.

"I know your perch." She replied sourly, lifting one eyebrow. She was tired of all the nonsense stirred by the carefree warden. He refused access for her two movers, men capable of _carrying_ the piano. Now the time she alotted for setting her apartment up has to be spent tuning and bringing the instrument back up to playable state.

"Warden-" She began, but was promptly intrupted much to her growing ire.

"Please, call me Raines."

Giving his smug grin a glare, she continued, "I do recall you gave permission for the delivery."

"Ahh, you see Miss. Nabaat, I gave no allowance for ex-convicts to deliver your piano." Cid shook his head, adjusting his clasped hands. "Surely you have known they wouldn't be let inside?"

Looking away from Cid's eyes, Jihl examined the simple pencil holder sitting on his desk. "Certain funds were... lacking."

Cid let out a rather loud 'Ahhh', as if it answered all of his life questions, gesturing with gusto, "Why didn't you tell me, Miss. Nabaat? Such money problems can be solved easily."

Jihl scoffed incredulously, "Is that so? My salary was cut three years ago. I pay for the piano maintenance and new instruments out of my own paycheck," Her icy eyes flashed dangerously, "You, on the otherhand sqander the money on frivilous things!" She shot a glare at the plate of fish to drive her point home.

"Oh nonsense, Miss. Nabaat." Cid waved his hand, as if brushing her words and anger aside. An uneasy silence fell between the two. Cid continued smiling rather blithely, much to Jihl's annoyance. Was this man really in charge of a prison? Jihl couldn't really imagine what fool would allow him to have such a position of power. Only on Pulse, Jihl surmised. Such nonchalance would not be tolerated on Cocoon. Her silent seethings was suddenly inturrupted when warden Raines broke the silence,

"Four." He raised his hand, displaying four fingers. Jihl blinked, her brow furrowed slightly at the sudden change of topic.

"Excuse me?"

"Four. You have four students," Cid swayed his chair back and forth slightly, "Would be five but unfortunately one hanged herself last night." Jihl remained silent, processing the information. Only four?

"I want you to keep in mind we have just over three hundred prisoners here in this compound." Cid leaned forward, his expression suddenly becoming serious, "You have an office, a piano room and yet only four students. I have been asked by people to cut the piano room altogether." His grey eyes flashed steel, "I hope you can see now just how reasonable your paycheck is."

Jihl gritted her teeth, staring right back into Cid's eyes. "You remind me of someone, warden-"

"Raines."

"My first warden also refused to be called warden." Her voice was quiet and tight with her anger. She leaned forward and continued before Cid had a chance to speak, "I am sure the name Dysley rings some bells for you."

Cid was silent as he observed Jihl, his eyes unreadable. Jihl leaned back into her chair, straightnening out a crease in her skirt. The usual glimmer in Warden Raines' eyes then returned as he clucked his tongue, leaning back into his chair too.

"You have been here for a long time, Miss. Nabaat." Was his soft reply, lacing his fingers together behind his head.

* * *

><p>The organ groaned and wheezed out its tired notes as the muddled choir of women muttered along with it, not remotely invested enough to actually sing the song properly. The elderly priest stood at the front, back turned to the rows of worshippers as he bowed his head in prayer. Above him stood the impressive statue of the Divine Goddess Etro, fierce and awe-inspiring. Lightning scowled, honing in on another ball of lint before extracting it deftly; ignoring her neighbour's silent persistance for her to join in the mindless droning.<p>

"Piano lessons? Interested in piano lessons?" A familiar voice hissed behind her. She turned to see it was Mr. Sazh, the eccentric guard in charge of her block, passing out flimsy fliers to the inmates. The inmates barely gave the flier a second glance, crumpling it and dropping the ball of paper on the floor when he moved on. Mind numb with boredom, Lightning watched the man as he made his way down the aisle.

Like the majority of prisoners within Her Eminence Etro's Correctional Facility for Women, Lightning never really put any faith in religion. Far as Lighting was concerned, Etro didn't give two bits to the welfare of humanity so she found little reason to grovel before her.

The dreadful song finally came to an end but it brought no relief as the attendees then stood up. With a grumbling sigh Lightning stood up too, not in the mood to get in an arguement with the guards. The priest then slowly turned around to face the parish, papery thin fingers fumbling with the large book in his arms. The silence that hung in the air was unbearable as the prisoners and guards alike watched the poor man struggle to find the correct page.

Lightning bit down on her tongue to hold back another sigh, leaning heavily onto the pew infront of her with her elbows. Finally locating the correct page and passage with his failing eyesight, the priest then began his sermon.

"Lost in the darkness, we seek for comfort. Our souls weary, torn and frail. Our eyes sore from peering through shadows, searching for what is not there. Only until we release the shackles of our sin, our vices and pride will we then be embraced by our Divine Goddess, Etro." His voice was dry, dead. He gave no cadence to his words resulting in a monotony that stupefied the mind.

Picking at her fingernails, Lightning's eyes roamed around the dusty chapel, taking in the details she came to memorize in the past five years. The distinction between guards and inmates was easy, the guards wore standard uniforms in what Lightning considered a charming diarrhea hue. The inmates all wore a blue plaid shirt offered only in one size, simple white tank tops -though others like to get reckless and wear deviating colours- and highly unflattering cotton pants that resembled the sort of pants doctors would wear.

Lightning was surprised when she was first handed her uniform. She had dreaded the drab grey jumpsuits that was prominent in the films that were smuggled down from Cocoon. Upon putting the bizarre mess of a uniform on, she realized that the grey jumpsuits would have been the lesser evil. On her fifteen year old body the only garment that fit her properly was the tanktop, the pants and plaid shirt was easily two times her size and hung off her like an Adamantoise skin. Five years later she still swam inside the clothes, her body clung persistantly to its rail thin boyish state.

Chewing on her thumbnail, she glanced over to her other neighbour who didn't even bother to stand up. This woman fit more into the standard criteria of the prison's population. Permanently furrowed brows angling over dull, stupid eyes. Thick, almost man-like lips and a strong masculine jaw. Her unkempt brown hair was cut to the hideous ear length bob that the prison barber only seemed capable of doing. Overall, she just screamed butch. As if sensing the young woman's ruthless assestment of her appearance, the woman shifted her beady brown eyes to glare into Lightning's. Holding the stare for a minute, Lightning casually looked away.

"May Etro and the Maker forever guide our souls." The sudden change in tone drew Lightning's attention back to the priest as he announced the familiar ending creed. More muddled murmurs as the multitude of people repeated after him, then the hushed rustling as everyone sat back down.

"In mourning for the deceased, we shall now listen to her favourite sonata. Slauden's A Major." The priest then motioned to the stranger sitting at the organ. Lightning had already analyzed the woman when she first saw her. Straight blonde hair, cold blue eyes, clothes immaculately pressed with thin gold wire glasses propped on her nose, the woman screamed puritan through and through. She watched the stranger as she turned to face the organ once more, hand posed above the keys.

Down, the fingers fell onto the teeth of the instrument, held in position as the first notes announced the beginning of the song. Then they were free, flittering across the chipped ivory teasing out the complex but light hearted song from the battered organ. Rolling her eyes up and away from the hypnotizing dance of the stranger's hands, Lightning felt herself slip into the song. Familiar and comfortable like an old friend. Head still tilted back, her hands began to follow along, ghosting across the pew.

* * *

><p>Eyes drawn by a flurry of motion, Jihl looked up from the sheet music to the steel plate on the organ. There in the reflection she saw what caught her attention, an inmate. Specifically the strange pink-haired one that glared at her for reasons unbeknownst to her. Not missing a single beat, Jihl watched the girl mime along with her.<p>

_'Interesting.'_ She raised a pencil thin eyebrow, years of teaching piano to numerous inmates trained Jihl's eyes to spot dexerous fingers. Even through the warped reflection of the metal, Jihl could tell this strange girl far surpassed the vast majority of her pupils.

_'Most interesting.'_ A small crooked grin crossed her face as she finished the song with uncharacteristic gusto.

* * *

><p>Ahh yes, Slauden = Mozart. It felt weird to use real world people in their world, so I took some liberties.<p>

Next chapter! Introducing Fang and Vanille, the mysterious jerks and showdown ignites between Jihl and Lightning in the gripping tale: FOUR MINUTES.


	2. Chapter 2

At last! The second chapter is completed! Thank you everyone for your kind words, they brightened my day after a hard day of work. =D

My job is brutal right now, killing my poor muse but I persevered! Things get a little more exciting in this chapter. Oooo! I'll admit I'm not too impressed with my description at parts, they definitely feel lacking. My grammar too, oh gosh my grammar. /hides face/ I hope it isn't too unbearable. If it is do let me know. Heh.

Musically driven by the soundtrack of Four Minutes the movie and Two Steps From Hell. Hindered by my 'charming' cat and need for food.

* * *

><p>Immediately after the congression ended the convicts were then promptly herded to their activities for the day. Lightning remained seated as Mr. Sazh walked over to her, pushing past the other prisoners that got in his way rather roughly.<p>

"Well Farron, get up!" He gestured for her to move, "As you may recall, you are signed up for piano. Of course with the lack of piano and teacher it has been redundant, but I hope you noticed we got a piano teacher finally!" He flashed her a grin, his teeth almost blindingly white against his darker skin. Lightning just stared at the man, her face deadpanned.

"Alrighty then! Good to see your enthusiasm!" He clapped his hands together, rubbing them as if he accomplished something great, "Now, to go gather the other party-goers." He whipped around, looking around the controlled chaos of everyone leaving the chapel. Lightning let out a huff, already feeling drained from the short interaction. She patted her pant pocket to reassure herself with the pack of cigarettes she carried there. Mr. Sazh suddenly disappeared into the swarm, Lightning watched for his rearrival. Admittedly, she was curious of who the other three were.

In prison, piano was on the same level as flower arranging and knitting. Wimpy classes that only brings grief from the other prisoners. When Lightning began her life serving time, the rehabilitative piano classes have long since been temporarily suspended. She only experienced hazing for her embarassing pink hair and for being a lippy brat. It wasn't until after she beat one of her hazers to a bloody pulp did the others leave her alone. Word of why she was doing time didn't hurt either. Murderers are rarely sent to Her Eminence, the judges usually prefer the tried and true death sentence route. Civility is a commodity on Pulse. It was just Lightning's luck the judge was feeling particularily sorry for her young age and gave her a mere life sentence.

Lightning still remain undecided on whether the sentence is merciful or not.

Mr. Sazh reappeared then from the opposite direction from where he had left. The three women following behind him surprised the stoic Lightning. She didn't know any of them personally, but rumours and gossip spreads like fire in a compound housing women. The brunette standing right next to Mr. Sazh Lightning knew was Lebreau. She was a member of a gang called NORA, a name Lightning didn't appreciate at all now. She was aquainted with the leader of said gang personally and any reminder of the oaf was most unwelcome. Lebreau was sentenced for having an obscene amount of contraband on her person and Lightning knew she was one of the main mules of the prison's drug trade.

"Well hey there!" Lebreau smiled, waving one hand in a broad sweep that reminded Lightning of window washers. She just looked away in response, habitually tugging at her shirt collar. Why everyone was so damn chipper in this place, Lightning will never understand. The other two women stayed further back, engrossed in conversation. If her memory served her correct the brunette was Fang and the red-head was Vanille. Native Pulsians. Lightning wasn't surprised to find Pulsians in prison as they held over half of the population weight. Society still remained hung up over the War that occured few years back and prejudice between Pulse and Cocoon rages on unchanged.

"Right, let's go!" Mr. Sazh motioned for Lightning to get up, which she relutantly obeyed. They fell into an awkward formation, Mr. Sazh and Lebreau leading at the front talking about something nonsensical, Lightning behind a few feet back and then the two Pulsians further behind. From time to time the slack nature in which this prison ran baffled her. It gave her the sensation of one huge acrimonious family, forced together under one roof.

As soon as they left the chapel Lightning quickly ignited another cigarette, closing her eyes for a moment as the tension that was slowly building up during Mass disappeared in an instant. She could hear the voices of the two Pulsians behind her but they were too far back to catch the words. The only gossip of the two Lightning accidentally overheard was their Pulsian heritage, the fact that they led a violent riot in a dinky town called Oerba and that they were stuck together at the hips. Otherwise no one knew much of them. They kept their business to themselves and other Pulsians.

"Fang!" The loud, indignant squeal of Vanille abruptly cut into Lightning's train of thought. She heard the distinctive sound of an arm getting slap and Fang's voice as she responded. Mr. Sazh turned around to make sure it wasn't anything serious,

"Ladies, be nice now." He called back before turning back, giving his afro a touch up. For anyone else, they would have been amused by the scene. Lightning just ignored it, exasperated that her musing was disturbed. Mr. Sazh guided them through the security gates and into the recreation building, a large relic of a structure. Maker, the outside was still protected by red brick. People just don't use that sort of material to build things on Pulse anymore, instead opting for the more high tech flashy exports from Cocoon. Passing through yet another security gate they then headed up to the second floor.

"Okay," Mr. Sazh suddenly stopped short, turning to face his charges, "Now, Miss. Nabaat said she wants to assest each of you seperately. First we have to wait for her to set up." He jabbed a thumb to what Lightning recognized was the storage room for educational books.

"Huh? Our class is going to be in there?" Lebreau remarked, folding her arms across her chest. Mr. Sazh shrugged his shoulders but didn't answer the brunette's question.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of room, if I remember correctly that room has windows too." Vanille spoke up, tapping her chin with one finger. Lebreau shot her a nasty glare before leaning against the wall, turning her head away,

"Whatever."

Lightning watched Vanille frown slightly at the cold reception, the red-head clearly did not expect the affable woman to be prejudiced. Lightning glanced over to Fang who made use of the chairs along the wall, catching the woman giving her a dirty look. Cocking an eyebrow at that, Lightning turned away to the railing. Slumping heavily on her elbows she peered down to where the gym was. Bringing the nearly done smoke to her lips, she took another drag and held it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

Another uncomfortable silence fell over them. Normally Lightning wouldn't mind silence, but she could feel the eyes of the damnable woman boring into the back of her head. Watching the golden motes of dust float in the sun shining down from the sky light, Lightning wondered what the hell Fang's problem was. Lightning wasn't the type to feel awkward easily, that part died years ago but under the intense scrutiny the feeling threatened to bloom.

Fighting the urge to meet Fang's stare, Lightning scratched her arm. She swear she could almost feel the waves of aggrivation rolling off the brunette. Just what the hell was her problem? It sprang out of nowhere. A metallic bang of the chair hitting the wall, the rustle of clothes and Vanille's surprised utterance of Fang's name told Lightning the woman was now walking over to her. She felt the whispering brush of the Pulsian as she passed by to lean on the railing adjacent to Lightning's left. Lightning ignored her.

"You know, I been thinking to myself since I first saw you in the church that I recognized you. It was bugging me the whole walk here when it suddenly hit me." She tapped the side of her head, "Of course, the infamous murderess of the joint! How dumb of me. Who else has such silly pink hair?"

Anger roiled up within Lighting at the offhand comment on her hair. All her life she have been touchy about it. Lighting was well aware that it was certainly not of the norm and cared little of people making note of it. Fighting the emotion back, she kept her face schooled.

"I find it rather convenient that the one topped was chumming with the killer." Fang continued, turning her gaze away to observe their surrounding. "You sure you didn't notice anything last night?"

Lightning refused to meet the infuriating woman's eyes, deciding that the relaxed, slurry manner of Fang's accent was one of the most annoying things she heard in a while.

"So?" Fang prompted again, shifting her body in impatience at Lightning's silence. Tapping at the butt of her cigarette, Lightning decided to humour Fang with a response. Her tolerance for needling was never that great.

"I was sleeping." Her voice was as schooled as her expression. This evoked a loud scoff from Fang who pushed away from the railing, swaggering back towards Vanille.

"She says she was sleeping," Lightning felt her hand clench tighter at the derisive tone of Fang's voice, "Well you sure are a heavy sleeper, hmm? Didn't even notice another person going tits-up right next to you." Fang moved back over to lean closer to Lightning, who tightened her jaw at the intrusion of personal space.

"You know what I think? You didn't sleep at all. You let her dangle, didn't you?" Lightning could feel Fang's hot breath hit her neck, "You're just the type. The sort to steal the last smoke from a corpse."

Finally, Lightning turned to meet Fang's stare. It was the first time she was this close with the woman. Lightning took a moment to examine the irksome convict; an off-hand part of her brain noted Fang wasn't that hard on the eyes. Graceful jaw-line, soft plump lips, exotic tanned skin and almond shaped eyes. Her hair was a wild mane, swept back with multitudes of colours revealing themselves in the sunlight. The Pulsian's irises was a vivid green, the same colour found on the underside of a leaf. Fang lived and breathed the wilderness.

Scoffing inwardly at herself, Lightning refocused her thoughts, "Are you crossed-eyed?" She remarked, exhaling tobacco smoke at her last words. Lightning watched the anger flash in Fang's eyes.

"Your share will come, Lightning." A snarl nearly escaped Lightning's throat when she felt Fang's finger jab roughly onto her shoulder, punctuating her last word.

"Don't touch me." She spat dangerously, observing the smirk growing on Fang's face. Almost predictably, Fang moved her finger up to prod Lightning's cheek. Snapping at the finger, Lightning bluffed at the brunette, her anger peaking.

"I said, don't touch!"

"Quiet!" Mr. Sazh barked, his attention drawn by Lightning's raised voice, giving the two prisoners a repremanding eye. Lightning glowered at Fang as she hesitated for a second, not wanting to let Lightning win. One last hard look, Fang headed back to Vanille.

* * *

><p>Mouth fixed in a frown, Jihl tested out the piano for the hundreth time. Still slightly off tune. She stood and reached under the hood, tightning the proper strings. Jihl was now running horribly late for her lessons all thanks to Cid who insisted she play the organ for the morning Mass. Valuable time she needed gone to waste.<p>

Sitting back down, Jihl tried the keys again. She almost broke into a smile at the pitch perfect notes, finally. Giving her glasses a quick adjustment, she proceeded to play one of her favourite pieces. The instrument wasn't the best in Jihl's collection but for a prison it will do. Over her years moving from prison to prison Jihl have seen many sorry excuses for a piano. Battered, chipped wood or paint, keys missing, vandalized with vulgar drawings and words, permanently off tune, the list went on. Her Eminence was just as guilty, the crimes done upon that poor organ within the church was ghastly. Cid would never lift a finger to fix such desecration upon the musical world.

Her thoughts now on the earlier events of the day, Jihl remembered the strange pink haired inmate. She wanted to see the girl play, see if she really was capable of what Jihl suspected. Hands like that is one in a million. Jihl had her fill of appalling talent, the years of horrible, dragging and unprogressive students weighed on her. To have someone skilled would be a breath of fresh air.

_'With that nasty look about her, I doubt she would go anywhere near a piano in this place.'_ Jihl thought to herself, crushing the bubble of hope that lept in her chest. People rarely ever knew what was good for them.

A soft rap of knuckles on wood sounded behind her. Pausing, Jihl turned her head to see Sazh Katzroy standing hesitantly by one of the bookshelves. Upon seeing that he had Jihl's attention, Sazh dipped his head slightly,

"The ladies are waiting outside."

Jihl faced the piano again, "The smell of lilac, so mild, so strong and full..." Her words flowed with the music as she continued from where she was interrupted. Sazh walked up to stand next to the piano, scratching his goatee,

"Sounds like Myrloch in Mastersingers?" Jihl did not respond, drawing another quote from the top of her head,

"She loved me for the dangers I'd pass'd and I loved her that she did pity them."

"Oh most definitely Essello." The guard's response was immediate as he began to pace, Jihl could hear the smile in his voice.

"May you find peace in death..." She stopped playing to examine him. Sazh gave a low whistle, repeating the phrase under his breath. Taking a seat on one of the chairs next to the piano, he shook his head,

"You got me there."

"You should study some more, Katzroy. Or one day you will find that you have gone nowhere in life." Sazh frowned at Jihl's rather unforgiving words, she just raised her eyebrow in expectation.

"Gulliani?"

"Gulliani!" Jihl exclaimed in scorn, shaking her head as she stood from the stool.

"Was I wrong?" Sazh asked, dumbfounded by her response. Jihl sighed. She first met Sazh a few years back at another prison, he was new to the prison scene then and somehow they managed to hold some pleasant conversations. At the time he was more invested in studying the classic works, it seemed the passion had died.

"Let the ladies enter." She dismissed, grabbing the sheet notes that will be used for the lessons. Sazh just sat there for a moment, perplexed. A pointed look from Jihl sent him to his feet, nodding hurriedly before heading to the door.

The first girl sent in good-naturedly introduced herself as Lebreau. Jihl just nodded at her words and gestured for her to sit at the piano, watching every movement with a critical eye. It was evident that even though Lebreau has played before, she was lacking greatly. She took forever moving from note to note, muttering the name of the keys under her breath as she did so. After fifteen minutes of agonizing torture, Jihl placed her hand over Lebreau's, forcing an extremely fake smile to her lips,

"That will do for now." She said to the startled Lebreau. The brunette got up, bowing sheepishly before leaving. Jihl massaged the bridge of her nose briefly. It was going to be no different from any other prison. Hearing the click of the door opening again, Jihl gathered herself together.

Fang was worst. The woman just fixedly stared at the instrument as if it was the first time she ever laid eyes on one. Morbidly fascinated, Jihl watched as Fang lips pursed in determined concentration,

"So..." She trailed off, "We just press it?"

Closing her eyes in silent prayer for mercy, Jihl rested her elbow on the lid cradling her forehead with her hand, "Yes." Needless to say she cut that lesson shorter, unaware that her next student would be abysmal. Vanille was cheerful and peppy until she sat down. Her mood instantly switch to timid. After telling her as patiently as she could to press the C key, Jihl watched the girl tap her thumb against her teeth for thirty seconds in rapid succession before slowly pressing down on the G key.

_'Maker above, what have I done in my life to end up here' _Jihl despaired.

* * *

><p><em>The hospital was swamped with activity, the cries of wounded soldiers punctuating the ponderous, methodical song of the organ. Twenty-one year old Jihl Nabaat closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the song as her surroundings slipped away. The voices of fellow nurses and the lament of dying men below faded to the background. The moment the head nurse told her to go take a break, she dashed up to the second floor where the organ was kept. Only music brought her peace of mind and sanity back, even if just for a little while.<em>

_The moment the war broke out, Jihl signed up for the nurse bridgade in hopes of making her father proud. Her quick wit and sharp mind passed her through the crash-course training with flying colours and she was sent to the field three months later. Nothing could have prepared Jihl for the brutality of war. The natives of Pulse were violently opposed to Cocoon expanding onto their land, not wanting the surplus of people poisoning their home. Cocoon in turn grew enraged in the Pulsian's selfish hoarding of the unused land that they needed due to overpopulation. _

_Casuality was titanic, Pulse bearing the worst of the war's hammer blow. Cocoon held a substantial advantage over the Pulsians with modern warfare machinery, only the skills of Pulse's warriors prevented outright genocide. They were ruthless, mauling any piece of Cocoonian flesh they could reach. _

_Her first arrival to the hospital was unforgettable. Shadowing one of the more experienced war nurses, Jihl nearly passed out on sight of the ragged bloody stump that used to be the poor patient's leg. Now after five months, Jihl became desensitized to the gore she witnessed everyday, her piano being her only saving grace. _

_An arm creeped around her waist, quietly and discreetly. Jihl opened her eyes, well maybe piano wasn't her only saving grace. She paused her playing, breathing in the familiar clean scent. Gentle, feathery lips pressed against her neck._

* * *

><p>"Here's the last of them, Miss. Nabaat," Katzroy's voice jolted Jihl out of her memory. Shifting her eyes away from the window where she was staring out, her eyes followed the guard as he walked up. The convict remained hidden behind him before ducking down the other aisle, Jihl felt an uncharacteristic glee swell in her heart when she spotted the distinctive flash of pink.<p>

_'At last, things seem to be looking up.' _She thought to herself as the mysterious girl ambled her way over, hands jammed into her pockets. Sazh rested his hands akimbo as he regarded the prisoner with exasperation. Jihl mentally marked the immediate differences with this inmate to the other four, the firstmost was that she kept her eyes on the piano ignoring Jihl completely. Jihl sniffed distainfully when she saw the pink-haired girl pull her hands out of her pockets to scratch her arm then nibble at her thumbnail.

_'Disgusting.'_ She thought to herself, finding the habit far more repulsive done by this inmate than any others. The second notable difference was that the girl just plunked herself down at the piano without any invitation or exchange of words. Jihl felt her ire rise at this.

"Your hands sore?" She didn't jump at her sudden comment, much to Jihl's small dissatisfaction. Still not looking at her the imprudent convict responded,

"A little."

"What happened?" Jihl inquired further, her back tensing.

"None of your business." Came the insolent reply as the inmate spun on the stool, still not looking at Jihl. She clenched her jaw, eyes tightning in anger.

"You want to play piano with those hands?" Jihl's voice was terse as her patience withered away.

"They're the only hands I have." The convict fixed her ice blue eyes on Jihl's at last, eyebrow lifted up in mockery. Jihl held her gaze, her spleen doubling at the smug expression. Breaking the contact, she swallowed in effort to keep the anger out of her voice,

"Get her out."

"Uh, well as you wish Miss. Nabaat but I think you should give her a chance." Sazh foolishly spoke in the brat's defence, tugging at his tie.

"Right now." Jihl clenched and unclenched her hand, staring furiously out the window. How swift did that punk get under her skin, Jihl couldn't stand it.

"Claire Farron-" Sazh started again before the convict interjected,

"Lightning."

"Her file says she's a musican." Sazh fumbled with said document in his hands, taken off-guard by Jihl's sudden change in behaviour.

"So, what about my lessons?" The self proclaimed Lightning challenged as Jihl snatched her sheet notes, placing them back in order before tucking them into her black folder.

"I am sure you are capable."

"What's your problem?" Jihl looked up, disbelief at the ignorance and rudeness.

"Watch your manners, young lady." She reprimanded, snapping the folder close. At the corner of her eye Jihl saw Sazh reach out and touch Lightning's shoulder in an attempt to calm her. It had the opposite effect.

"What?" The pink-haired girl flipped, springing up from the stool, "You won't let me play because of my hands? Fuck that fascist shit!" She paced around Sazh, swinging a fist in hot-temper. Jihl remained frozen in spot as she watched Sazh approach the livid Lightning, trying to restrain her once more.

"Don't touch me," Jihl's mind was blank, Lightning's angry voice reverberated, "I said, don't touch! What the hell is with you people and touching!"

The girl exploded when Sazh grabbed her shoulders. Jihl adverted her eyes as the sound of the fallboard slamming down, fist hitting flesh and angry curses flowing from Lightning's mouth filled the room. Slowly, she gathered her folder and other papers off the piano top and left the room.

Savage, heart-pounding music erupted from the room, maddening, stressful and furious. Jihl stumbled to the railing and clutched it, wondering numbly why her body was failing her. Guards rushed past but she paid them no thought. Only the terrifying song pouring from the storage room occupied Jihl, drowning her in the pure emotions flowing from the pink-haired artist.

Abruptly as it started, it ended. Deafening silence filled its absence.

* * *

><p>Dun dun dunnn! Lightning has major issues! Then again don't we all? Writing in Lightning's POV was easier than Jihl's. X_X<p>

I'll try my best to get chapter three up, but I only have one true day off this week. D:

IN CHAPTER THREE an unlikely alliance is formed while tension rises, what does the future hold in store for our merry band of dysfunctional heros? Stay tuned for the next soil-your-trousers-thrilling episode of FOUR MINUTES!


	3. Chapter 3

I did not die. My muse certainly did however. Oops.

Again, this is unbeta-ed, I'll get around to finding someone to edit these for y'all. Preemptive apologies for any horrendous grammar errors.

My work is shutting down in three months, it's a bit surreal. If I can't find another job before then maybe I'll finish this story while I wallow in my laid off misery. :D

Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Woah now, easy! Easy!"<p>

"Oi, stop going so fast!"

"Maybe you should haul your ass for once!"

Shouts, barked orders and a healthy amount of swears accompanied the guards in the middle of carrying the rather heavy baby grand piano down the concrete steps of the recreation building. At the bottom, Jihl kept a close eye on them. At every bang, clunk and smack she flinched and bitterly cursed Cid's name. After the disasterific incident that ended up with Sazh in the hospital Cid decided that holding the piano lessons in the storage room was not safe.

So, instead the lessons will be held in the gymnasium. The noisy, rank gymnasium. Jihl's joy was _endless_. Arms crossed over her chest, she tapped a finger in vexation. She was beginning to think coming to Her Eminence as a grave mistake. Nothing has gone smoothly at all, and it was still her first day.

"Ah! There we go!" The more rotund guard cried joyously as the feet of the piano touched down on the main floor. They paused for a moment to wipe off the beading sweat on their foreheads before continuing.

"Don't worry, Miss. Nabaat! We'll put 'er in a nice sunny spot!" The slimmer guard said in an attempt to sound reassuring, giving Jihl a wink. She rolled her eyes, not feeling the least bit reassured. They pushed the piano across the gymnasium, past the ancient excercise machines and convicts playing basketball to the spot originally designated for dance lessons. Not moving an inch from where she stood, Jihl examined the new home for the piano. Just as she suspected; noisy basketball games, smelly gym mats and hardly any privacy. The only upside was the large arched windows.

It will have to do. With a sigh she spun on her heels and quickly departed from the recreation hall. Time to pay someone a visit.

* * *

><p>Hot, thick anger burned through her veins. Her heart pounded frantically. Jerking violently, the leather restraint cracked the air loudly but refused to give in. Lightning's mind was a projector flickering through images of her thoughts, blurring by at a sickening speed. She wanted out. She needed out. The tight grip of leather holding her down panicked her, brought up memories better left alone.<p>

_'Claire, will you come here for a moment?' He smiled, gesturing for her obedience. It was the same smile he had before Mom left... _

She shook her head, pushing against the restraints in another desperate attempt for freedom.

_Her fingers ached. The row of ivory teeth sparkled under the lamp, mocking her. Blearily she wiped a stray tear before flipping the page to the finish. When the final note died away she sighed, lifting her sore hand up for inspection. She was somewhat surprised to see no blood._

_'Ahem,' The harsh sound of her teacher clearing her throat startled her. Bowed head in guilt, she turned to face the stern man, 'Until you can play Shwendel's C minor concerto flawlessly, I do not want to see your hands idle.'_

Her eyes stared up at the water-stained ceiling, blank as her memories replayed unbidden.

_'Claaaiirree!' The indignant bellow only spurred the older girl to grin. She watched the sparkling blue eyes narrow in frustration, 'Give him back to me!' Short, little arms shot out in another attempt to snatch the stuffed toy from her hand. _

Lightning just barely perceived the rusty creak of the observation window opening. She closed her eyes, trying to control her haggared breathing. It has been so long. Five long years since she thought about her life before prison. The sight of that damn piano brought it all back. Brought the Cocoon size weight of Lightning's past crashing back down on her.

_'Serah, stop!' Claire cried out, running after the pink haired girl who was charging straight to the ocean. Her heart leap to her throat when she saw the girl crash into a particularily large wave, giggling uncontrollably. Stomping through the salty water, she grabbed the chocobo floatie wrapped around Serah's waist and began dragging her back to shore._

_'Cl-ai-re!' The loud whine only made Claire grit her teeth._

_'Shush! Mom said you hafta wait an hour! Or else a nasty ol' sahagin will smell you and gobble you up.' She glared at the floatie gripped in her hands, 'Doesn't help at all that cher wearin' this.'_

_'You are so annoying!' Serah rolled her eyes, wiggling in protest. Claire glared down at her sister's furious crystal blue eyes, far more vivid under the endless blue sky above._

"I will have you know I find you absolutely abhorrent." The controlled, sterile voice of Jihl Nabaat drew Lightning partially out of her muddled thoughts. She didn't want to care why the woman was visiting her. For the first time in five years outside of her dreams Lightning was thinking about Serah. Emotions other than indifference and anger overwhelmed her.

"However, I find you have an exceptional talent. A gift." The voice continued in spite of the lack of response from Lightning. Guilt, sadness and self-reproach flared through her as Serah dominated her thoughts. Twisting against the bindings, Lightning felt her throat tighten painfully as a scream threatened to explode.

"I feel that this gift shouldn't be wasted, let to rot in this prison. I have no idea where you learned to play nor do I care. Trash pulsian music like that is worthless." Jihl's insistance for her attention infuriated Lightning. She snarled, opening her eyes to glare at the blonde purposely not looking at her,

"Fuck off!" Lightning spat, it was this cold hearted bitch's fault for her current state. She found a sick sort of satisfaction when Jihl pursed her lips, shoulders tensing. Maybe now she will screw off and mess up someone else's life.

"Once you paid for what you have done to Mr. Katzroy today," A sharp inhale followed before Jihl resumed, "I will help you. Not help you as a person, Etro forbid that impossible task, but in effort in nurturing the gift. To help you become a better pianist."

Lightning fell silent, stunned and confused. Jihl all but freaked out earlier at the thought of teaching her and now she's changed her mind? Jihl stood up, straightening her cardigan as she walked to the solitary confinement door,

"Think about it." And was gone. Lightning laid there, still as she pondered over Jihl's bizarre behaviour. Her respite did not last long. Slowly, tendrils of her poisoned thoughts crept back in. Clenching her eyes shut, Lightning felt scalding tears slip down her cheek.

* * *

><p><em>The dank, musky odour curled in her nose as she tried to ignore it. Another shockwave shook more dust and debris down, forcing her to stifle a sneeze. The cobwebs swayed from the air pressure pushed down the decaying brick corridor. Chills ran down her spine, stomach tense with fear.<em>

_She continued on, hand clutched over her racing heart. She had to find her, no matter how much she wanted to crawl into a safe corner. She won't rest until her hand met hers again. Panting heavily, she clutched the wall as another violent tremor shook her surroundings. There was no way the building above could withstand such a heavy assault for much longer. _

_She ducked her head as military personnel pushed by, too panicked to care that a nurse wasn't suppose to be down these corridors. A small exhale of relief as she continued on._

* * *

><p><strong>Tap tap tap<strong>

Jihl stirred, frowning at the peculiar sound. Pushing herself up from the unorthodox position in the armchair, she glanced around her living room before resting her eyes on the source of her interruption. A grinning, waving boy at her window.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" He called out, gripping the stil to get a better look in. Jihl's eyebrow jerked involuntarily in annoyance. The imprudence of children these days!

"No." Was her curt reply as she stood up. Sweeping her bangs from her eyes, she walked over to the window where the boy was. She stared down at the intruder, watching him struggle to gain a better view inside.

"Ungh!" A rather loud grunt announced the arrival of Sazh Katzroy. The boy promptly stopped his endeavour. Jihl arched a brow at the sight of the brace around Sazh's neck, along with the buises and scratches generously dispersed along him.

"He still can't speak well!" Said what Jihl now assumed was Sazh's son, "I'm Dahj! Nice to meet you!"

"Is that so?" Jihl let out a small huff of air through her nose before leaving the window. She weaved by some boxes yet to be unpacked to the front door. Opening it she saw the father and son giving each other quizzical looks, still by the windows. "If you insist on treating my windows as a point of entry, I'm afraid I will not accept your company."

With a start they walked over to Jihl, properly greeting her as they stepped inside. Giving her blouse collar a tug, Jihl realized just how messy her apartment was. She simply did not have enough time with all the madness going on to really devote much time to settling in.

"Please excuse the mess. Would you care for some tea?" Taking Sazh's brief grunt as a yes, she headed to her kitchen to turn the kettle on. Waiting for the water to boil, Jihl tapped her fingers against the countertop in irritation. She could hear the boy, Dahj, shuffling around with her boxes. Jihl disliked people visiting her home. She also disliked perky kids sticking their noses in things where they shouldn't be.

"Is this your husband?" Dahj's abrupt question took Jihl off-guard. She looked to see him holding up a picture of her great uncle, one he dug out from one of her _closed_ boxes.

"No, I don't have a husband. Put that back." She snapped, pouring the now boiling water into the teapot. Setting the pot onto the tray, she headed back over where Sazh sat.

"Is your husband dead?" Sazh mumbled angerly at his son, gesturing for him to stop. Jihl sighed as she set the tray down on her coffee table.

"No. I devoted my life to beauty alone..." She trailed off, pouring Sazh's cup. The man gestured for his son to come over, whispering into his ear. Jihl could hear the strain it took for even that.

"Elisund in _Elisund_." Dahj dutifully repeated for his father. Jihl gave a slight nod.

"This image is magically beautiful..." More strangled whispering.

"What?" Jihl set the teapot back on the table, watching Dahj's brow furrow in confusion. His father tried again.

"Desmond in _The Magic Moogle._" Jihl clucked her tongue, shaking her head.

"The Magic Mithril." She sipped her tea, wincing as it burned her tongue, "And you shall be..."

"And you shall be my lord!" Dahj added his own special embelishment, giggling as Sazh nudged his side, "Gabrell in _Gabrell._" He finished, grabbing one of the tea cookies Jihl graciously offered.

"So all of that studying was some use." Jihl finally relented her impromtu quizz, observing the shower of crumbs trailing Dahj's path with distaste as he headed to her old fashion televison. She took another sip before continuing conversation, "All of the guards miss you."

Sazh hissed at his son, gesturing for him to stop fooling with the televison and come back to help him. Dahj sighed and abandoned his mission of finding the cartoon channel to resume his spot next to his father, "How's the Farron doing, Daddy says."

"Mmm, she has a month of solitary." Jihl leaned back, "Not a minute less."

Sazh nodded before whispering another message to his son. "Daddy says he's not gonna let her off easily when he returns," Dahj kicked his feet, giggling as he finished off his fifth cookie. Jihl sipped her tea, smiling in grim amusement.

* * *

><p>Eyes closed, Lightning felt every inch of her body relax for probably the first time in her life. After a handy pill of valium from the prison nurse, the guards finally let her free from the restraints, something Lightning was rather thankful of. She was still in the barren room with the highly uncomfortable bed. Of course, to the bratty Lightning the solitary confinement bed was hardly a step down from the pathetic excuses for a mattress the prison put in their usual cells. Head rested on the gym mat like cushioning meant to prevent concussions from convicts slamming their heads violently about, Lightning scoffed outloud.<p>

This whole month of isolation was a joke too, if they thought that it would cause any sort of suffering to the loner. Lightning realized quickly once the happy pills kicked in that this cell was possibly the best place in the whole prison. Silence. Pure silence. If you ignored the rusty squeal of the observation window opening every fifteen minutes. Tracing her finger along a knot in the wood of the bed, Lightning resisted from grinning from ear to ear. She knew that the moment she gave them any hint she was enjoying this it would end faster than she could say 'racing chocobos'.

Valium is one hell of a drug, Lightning came to realize too. On any normal day would she never allow herself to think such a phrase as _racing chocobos_. The fact that it also tucked her maddening memories off far, far away in a hazy cloud instantly put the drug on her good side. Even to much of the guard's surprise, on her second day in the hole she requested pen and paper to write an 'apology'to that horrid bitch Nabaat. No amount of affability would ever inspire Lightning to write 'sorry', please or 'thank you', however, so the letter mainly consisted of her saying she would accept Nabaat's offer. In a roundabout manner.

Lightning certainly did not perceive any amount of difficulty from Nabaat in accepting the letter. The woman in fact should be gracious she has been the recipient of any sort of addressal from Lightning. Chuckling under her breath, Lightning was sure she could blame Valium for her abnormal cockiness.

Lightning _did_ truely mean it when she said she wanted to continue piano. The moment she laid eyes on that instrument something clicked inside of her, a lost piece of her settled back in place. Minus all that forced reflection of her past life, she finally felt somewhat alive in that moment when her fingers finally touched the keys.

She haven't felt that since she before - no. Not enough time has passed for her to even think of it. No amount of Valium would keep her placated if she kicked that wasp nest again.

Footsteps on the otherside of the heavily reinforced steel door was heard before the distinctive noise of the cuff slot opening up, "Hands." The gruff voice of the guard other convicts like to call 'Hewie' ordered. Cracking her rather sore neck as she stood up, Lightning stuck her hands obediently through the opening to allow Hewie slap on hand cuffs. Pulling back from the door as it opened she raised her brow, wondering what was up.

"You got a visitor. Get moving." He wasn't one for words. Lightning let the small breath she was holding go, relieved that they didn't discover she was actually enjoying her punishment. The bigger mystery was who would possibly want to visit her? Or rather, who would Lightning _want _to visit her? She couldn't think of a single soul.

Arriving at the door to the room where visitors could meet with more viotile inmates like Lightning, she sent out a small prayer that it wasn't _him _OR _him_. Giving Hewie a look when he opened the door for her, she walked in.

It was Nabaat. Joys abound.

Lightning maintained her neutral expression as she sat down on the chair in front of the woman watching her with a steely look. Playing with the hand cuffs clinking at her wrist, she quickly recognized the wrinkly piece of paper in Nabaat's hand. It was her letter.

Clearing her throat, Nabaat wasted not a moment, "There is a rather blatant lack of 'sorry', 'please' and 'thank you' in your letter." Lightning mentally cursed the woman as she watched the obsessively waxed eyebrow curl up. Arrogant. Resting her head on one hand while nibbling on a nonexistant nail from the other hand, she decided to give the woman what she wanted,

"Sorry. Please. Thank you." Nabaat's face remained stony, her cold blue eyes not even showing a flicker of emotion. A loud screech from a child in the neighbouring visiting hall drifted in through the open window. Lightning continued nibbling on her nail, waiting for Nabaat to respond.

"Eat it." The older woman handed the letter over the plexiglass divider. Lightning blinked in surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting anything of that sort from such an uptight bitch.

"You want me to eat the letter?" She stopped her compulsive habit, ignoring the paper when Nabaat casted it at her.

"Eat it."

Lightning let out a derisive snort, "Why should I?"

"Rule number one."

"What'll rule number two make me eat?" Lightning snarked. Nabaat tapped her finger, glancing down for a moment before meeting Lightning's challenging glare.

"Some healthy lessons of humility will benefit, most certainly. Rule number one is humility. I expect you to do whatever I say with no complaints. Not with words or glances. None at all."

If Lightning was any other person, her jaw would have dropped incredulously at such absurd words the older woman was spewing, "You want me to be your simpering slave?" She leaned forward, her lip curling in a sneer. Nabaat sat for a moment, face still blank of any emotions Lightning could discern. Then she pushed back the chair and headed to the door.

"Fine, okay!" Lightning gave in, feeling an unfamiliar seize of panic, "Hey! I got it, it's a deal." Nabaat began twisting the handle of the door open, not looking back.

"Sit down," Lightning implored, her pride taking major hits, but she would be damned if she couldn't touch the piano again after having a taste of something she haven't had in so long, "Sit back down, please?" Nabaat stopped her current action, spun on her heels, and walked back to her chair. Resting her hands on the back, she leaned forward to stare directly at Lightning.

Begrudgingly swallowing down the last of her pride, Lightning balled up her letter, "I'll be your pathetic slave." And stuffed the paper ball in her mouth, chewing. Nabaat watched her for a good moment as Lightning worked on the tough material. Another obnoxious squeal came from the open window, to which Nabaat closed with a relenting sigh.

"Rule number two: your hands. You'll need them, so stop that disgusting habit." Lightning exhaled heavily through her nose, dropping her hand from her mouth, "Rule number three: you stink. I refuse to be in the presence of someone who can't even bathe herself properly."

Her throat tightened with anger, wanting to retort that there was a distinct lack of oppertunities for showering when your freedom is greatly restricted. Nabaat continued, "Rule number four: the contest."

"The contest?" Lightning questioned, sweeping away a stray lock of hair.

"There is a piano contest for upcoming talents under the age of twenty-one. I expect you to reach the finals." The expression on Nabaat's face dared Lightning to protest.

* * *

><p><em>"The girl deserves a chance."<em>

_"Yes."_

_"That brat?"_

_"Rygdea, why not?"_

_"Don't call me Rygdea. She put Sazh out of commision for weeks, she's under strict confinement, and you let her hit the keys all day?" The man looked around at the others, "Is that just?"_

_Jihl listened to the useless argument, rolling her hand back and forth across the pencil resting on the table, exasperated._

_"Consider the situation on hand." Gracie insisted, glaring into Rygdea's stubborn blue eyes._

_"Oh please!" Rygdea waved his hand, as if offended by the mere thought._

_"You are so bullheaded!" Was her venomous reply._

_"Mr. Kase, let your wife finish." Cid interjected, trying to keep some control over the meeting regarding the troublesome Lightning Farron._

_"Ex-wife!" Rygdea corrected hotly, not at all pleased to be in the same field of work with the woman. At the unimpressed look on Cid's face, he gestured for Gracie to continue._

_"I believe the best course of action is to support Lightning. Her file shows inferences-"_

_She was cut off again by Rygdea, the other members of the meeting let out a sigh, "Inferences? She basically slaughtered the guy!"_

_"Wait a minute!" The priest protested, "Let's not-"_

_"He's right, though!" The prison nurse argued back before the man could even finish. _

_"Please!" Cid raised his hands, soothing the tense atmosphere only by a fraction, "We are all adults here." Rygdea scoffed, shaking his head."Do continue, Gracie."_

_"Thank you." She nodded to the warden, "Lightning has no contact to her family or anyone outside. Not that she seems to care. She has no psychological parents or any perspectives. "_

_"And what do you suggest?"_

_"A few piano lessons."_

_Jihl left the table, rubbing her temples. "Where exactly will that lead us!"_

_"Mr. Kase..."_

_"Listen, I represent the officers and employees of Her Eminence. Where will it lead us if we reward the perpetrators?"_

_"It's useless." Jihl made her way to the fish tank, freshly stocked. Grabbing the container of food flakes, she sprinkled a pinch in. _

_"She almost kills a guard, then gets to make joyful tunes all day." She observed the fish as they lunged to the food, stirring up a frenzy. The argument behind her continued._

_"I simply refuse such a thing!"_

_"Miss. Nabaat."Brushing her hand clean of the food dust, Jihl looked over to see Cid and the rest looking at her expectantly. _

_"I don't know." Came her honest reply on the matter._

_"Well, how successful could the inmate possibly be in the contest?" Rygdea inquired. Jihl resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the annoying man._

_"I daresay she could win first place." Folding her arms over her chest, she strolled around the table, "Which would be a success for all of us. Oh and of course, a personal victory for you, Mr. Raines."_

* * *

><p>Lightning spat at the ground, hackles bristling at the mention of contests, "And what's in it for me?"<p>

"Rule number five: this is not about you." Nabaat smirked then, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. That was the last straw. Lightning leaned forward, her wounded pride fuelling her ire,

"When I was that screaming kid's age, I performed in Palumpolum, Nautilus and Eden." Her voice throaty, dangerous, "At ten I had played numerous contests all throughout Cocoon and Pulse. Over half I won," She turned her head away from the glimmer of curiousity that grew in Nabaat's eyes, "My _father_ desired to shape me into Slauden. When I quit at twelve, he-" Lightning stopped there, her vocal cords refusing to work. Thankfully. It nearly slipped out.

Balling up her fists, Lightning pressed them against her eyes, forcing herself to regain composure, "I really do not feel like some stupid contest." Slamming her hands down, she looked back up to see Nabaat nod her head in a manner one could say was casual.

"Then it might be best to go back to rule number one." Nabaat's frigid blue glare met with Lightning's own fiery blue.

* * *

><p>*dramatic musical flourish*<p>

Things are building up, what could it all mean? That's for me to know and for you to find out!

In Chapter Four of Four Minutes Nabaat and Lightning finally have their first official piano lesson together! Stay tuned to find out the next development!


End file.
